


Purple Heart Purple Blood

by aphVirginia



Category: Mianite - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, I have no idea what else to tag this with, Ianite dies in the first chapter y'all, Other, canon character death, tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphVirginia/pseuds/aphVirginia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ianite dies, Jordan is transformed into becoming part enderman. He must now live life suffering under the stares of those around him, wondering why he became what he's become.</p>
<p>Thanks and shoutout to art-without-names.tumblr.com for supplying such a beautiful au, and I am honored to write for such a well-crafted idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the beginning, there were ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!!! I really like how this has turned out thus far, but any feedback on grammar and pacing and whatnot is appreciated. Have a lovely day!!!

Jordan flew around the statue of his lady in The End, eyes wide with surprise, shock, and confusion. Its brilliance towered sky-high, all purple and outstandingly beautiful, even though its face screamed fear. His mind raced with possibilities, chest already beginning to ache with feelings of long-buried sadness. He had a bad feeling about this statue... Why did she look so scared? What was she running from? Why was it here in the first place? Could he help her in any way? Could he save her from what she ran from? Why did his little Ianita know about this?

Questions raced through his mind like horses galloping aimlessly through a seemingly infinite grassy plain. Questions merged and contorted, leaving him with a sense of confusion and heartache. He wanted to help, wanted to save his goddess, wanted to protect and love and care for her--a dull throb started at his temples, muddling his thoughts and pulling his feet towards the ground. He chose to ignore it, instead focusing on the statue. He just... He was so confused. What was going on? What happened to his beloved goddess? He knew she needed to discorporate and spread her quintessence across the dimension, but that didn't explain the statue--

The statue turned to ashes, collapsing to the ground and collecting into small piles of the stuff. What was once his lady now was a mere pile of ash and dead dreams, a being so loved by him and her family yet now so far from him. Before he could utter a word, express his shock and discontent and unhappiness, the pain in his temples throbbed to an unknown beat.

Each throb felt like a knife plunging into his head, sent him careening towards the ground. He landed with a scream, bones in his legs cracking and shattering under the force of the landing. He collapsed, breaking a wing and letting out a whimper as pain built up behind his eyes. His limbs felt like they were covered in flames, like he was being eaten alive and doused in hydrochloric acid and bitten by hundreds of thousands of fire ants all at the same time. His vision blurred, overtaken by nauseating patterns of purples and pinks swirling in a kaleidoscope of hues and shapes. Each throb of icy hot pain that flared up added new shades of purple. He willed himself to pass out, begging for the sweet release of unconsciousness, not wanting to feel this pain. 

His mind was clouded with it, unable to think of anything beyond primal understanding. He heard howls and cries and pleads for the pain to stop, just stop; He was shocked to realize that they came from himself. A particularly vicious mental stab halted that thought process, shoving him into the sweet embrace of blissful unconsciousness while he collapsed face-first into his goddess's ashes while twitching and letting gout pained whimpers even while passed out.

* * *

 

The first of his senses to return to him was touch. He woke due to something cool being pressed to his forehead. It wasn't uncomfortable, nor was it unwelcome. After a minute or two, he placed the cool thing as a hand; not one of his own, since those were gripping... something. He identified a silky-smooth substance, warm and welcoming over him and beneath him. He guessed that it was cloth or maybe fur, though he knew it was much more likely to be the former. He then noticed the thing his head rested under--it was soft and comfortable. It could be a pillow, but it could also be someone's jacket or a rolled-up blanket, even one of Ianita's stuffed animals.

Next, his sense of smell returns. At first, all he can smell is the comforting smell of detergent on what he now placed as bed sheets, as well as an incredibly familiar smell of pies that he knew was distinctly Guard Tom. After about a minute, he can smell the other smells in the air: his own sweaty grossness, a tangy irony scent that was distinctly blood, and a cologne that could only be found on Tom. Not Guard Tom--he tended to smell like pies no matter what--but Tom Syndicate. Wherever he was, he was either with friends or had just been with friends; the realization calmed him, but also worried him. Why would they be here in the first place? To the best of his knowledge Sonja and Tucker had had a movie night planned, Waglington was off doing wizardly things, and Tom had been running errands for Dianite with Mot.

After that came his sense of taste. His mouth tasted awful, as if someone had thrown up and then licked the ground that a dog had pissed on; it was, unfortunately, a taste he was familiar with. Regeneration potions tasted disgusting, and some suffered their pain rather than deal with its horrendous flavor. Still, it helped that the room smelled of pies--it dulled out the potion flavor within his mouth.

"--Jordan? Jordan, are you awake?" Tom murmured softly, voice starting out incredibly quiet and cascading into its full volume as his hearing reasserted itself. Tom's voice, a calming concoction of worry and concern and fear with a dash of confusion and a bit of terror to spice up the mix, helps slap him into a strict and simple understanding: this is real. The concern in his friend’s voice grounds him, helps him believe that what he is living through now is real. The worry lets him feel loved and cared for, a sensation he hadn't truly felt since the death of his beloved Capsize no matter how much he knew the others loved and cherished him.The fear, confusion, and terror let him know that whatever happened to him was incredibly, massively awful. The last time Tom had even sounded close to scared had been when they were fighting the old Dianite…

"Yeah, I'm awake." He croaked, wincing at the dry scratchiness of his voice. Had he been force-fed the regen potion? Given the situation, he wouldn’t be surprised. “What happened?” Tom went silent after that, fingers beginning to gently comb their way through his hair. It felt rather relaxing, though he was anything but relaxed--Tom was either thinking of what Jordan asked or having a mental discussion with Dianite. The latter was much more likely.

“Jordan… Mate, you aren’t going to like it. I… have no idea how to explain this to you.” Tom sounded… Cautious. Why? Didn’t he know that Jordan would never,  _ ever _ hurt him even if the other option was a permanent death?

“Tell me. Simplest terms, just straight-up say it.” As an afterthought, he added “I promise that I won’t get mad at you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about--”

“Tom, just… Just tell me.” Jordan interrupted, anxiety starting to gnaw at his bones. Why would Tom not tell him? Had chunks of him gone missing? Had he hurt someone, like Ianita or Martha or Tom or any of his other friends? Had Mianite smited him for something?

“Look… I just…” Tom sighed, hand stilling in his hair. “You need to open your eyes first. It’s… Something you have to see to believe.” He would have made some sort of snarky comment, but decided against it; if he wanted answers, being sassy was definitely not the way to go about it.

He forced his eyes open only to the too-bright moonlight of the room, vision blurry and unfocused. He was looking straight up, purples from what he believed were stained glass making Tom’s usually green face seem darker, more human--what shocked him was the reddish aura that surrounded the blob over him that was Tom’s worried face.

As his vision cleared, he could see the aura more clearly. Reds swirled spirals with oranges, the edges blending into a vibrant purple color. Sparks and stars flared within it, as if there was something else, some other power, contained within his friend. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that he hadn't been able to see it before.

“Jordan… You alright?” It took momentous effort to tear his eyes away from the incredibly aura, focusing on the worried hues in Tom's eyes.

“Yeah… Everything's a bit fuzzy, but your face is getting clearer.” He smiled up at the other, suddenly grateful that he'd been taken home and taken care of. He could recognize enough of his surroundings to know that he was in Guard Tom's room--he missed the man and his wonderful pie-cooking skills-- but wondered where little Ianita was. She was his daughter, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to take care of her.

“Alright, good… Think you can stand?”

“Yeah…” His limbs were on fire. He'd barely managed to open his eyes; he doubted he'd make it three steps, let alone the elevator.

“Boyo, just go get glitter-lap a mirror.” A familiar disembodied voice muttered. “He can't even move the sheets off of him, let alone walk.”

To his surprise, Tom obediently nodded, getting up and going up the elevator. Once he was gone, the room felt colder. His eyes roamed the room, easily locating a brilliantly flowing red and orange flame flickering in a corner. The flames were about as tall as Tom was, and just like the other aura gave off no light. If he squinted, he could just barely locate where a face would be in the colors.

“... Dianite, you're standing in the corner, right?” He didn't know, but he wanted to be absolutely certain. If there was some other ghost that only he could see, he needed to know.

“Yes… How on earth did you know?” He had no idea; Dianite sounded shocked, yet also thoughtful… It was hard to get a good read on someone off of just their voice. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could answer Tom came back with a covered mirror, taken from Ianita's room.

“I think we forgot to tell you, but Ianita's with Martha.” Tom commented, misreading his look of mild confusion and worry as parental concern as the mirror was carefully propped up on the opposite side of the room. “Martha said something about spoiling her little sister and baking cookies.”

“Sounds like she'll have to handle Ianita on a sugar high.” He mumbled, watching as Tom fussed with the mirror's placement. “You'll hang that back where it belongs afterwards, right?”

“Of course, mate.” Tom turned, grinning at him. “You can't even walk right now, why would I leave it here in the way of all the food prep?” He nodded agreement, raising an eyebrow as his friend walked over to him and tossed the covers off.

He glanced down, letting out an internal sigh of relief. All of his limbs were there, but they seemed… Longer... than before. Thinner, too. He blamed his vision not being at full capacity yet.

Tom scooped him out of the bed bridal-style, holding him carefully even as his muscles screamed in pain. He hadn't even realized his wings were still out until Tom's arm had bumped the bandages holding them close to his body.

Dianite moved in front of the mirror, pulling a chair out for him to sit on before stepping to the side.

“Are you sure you're ready?” He nodded; in his mind, it was better to see the damage and know how bad it was rather than be left wondering. Tom set him in the chair, standing behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him upright. Almost instinctively, Tom had avoided touching the aura of the god--he wondered how often all of them had unconsciously moved out of the way for the deceased ghost.

“Yes.” Dianite stepped forward, to the side of the mirror. A tendril of the vibrant aura tugged at the cloth, holding it in front of the mirror before dropping it; Jordan’s heart skipped a beat, staring in shock at what was staring back at him.


	2. I'm Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan sees what he has become and remembers what was lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!!!! I just wanted to thank you for sticking with me thus far, and keeping up with my pretty much nonexistant writing schedule.
> 
> I have a question for you all: What ships do you want to see in this? Motanite is already going to be a thing, as will Tonja--but what other mianite ships would you all like to see? Leave a comment and let me know, or send me an ask to my tumblr land-of-dragons-and-frogs
> 
> Also, thanks to my beta reader tumblr user sihatn for finding all my grammar problems. bless u, ya nerd.

He stared into the mirror, at first avoiding his own face and body. His eyes locked onto Tom’s, noting that the intensity of the other’s stare refused to soften, as if daring him to look longer. The other’s aura did not appear in the mirror, which he loathed--he wasn’t ready to see what he was seeing, he didn’t want to accept his reality. He looked at Tom until he could no longer, when his body became too much to avoid. His eyes met his own, and examined the monstrosity that was himself with a distant sort of horror.

Half of his face had been consumed by a charred, blackened skin, with a texture so similar to what it used to be that he hadn’t noticed it before he’d seen it. His ‘normal’ skin was tinged with a pulsing purple, as if his red blood cells became the color he now dreaded. Tufts of his hair were now decidedly more purple than before, and what had once been a brilliantly blue left eye was now a purple mash-up of colors. He was taller, though not by much: his limbs were thinner and longer than before, and his hands seemed a bit smaller than before. He wouldn’t be surprised if patches of skin matched the new skin covering his face, though he doubted that he would want to look. His shirt had been swapped for a long-sleeved pajama shirt, likely so that he would have to look and find out later on. What surprised him the most was the coloration of his wings: what had once been black and red was now a deep purple and a nearly-transparent light purple film. Whenever they moved, they gave off small purple particles. His breathing alone was causing them to shift, creating very small, faint purple spots of glittery sparkles in the air before they faded away into the nothingness they once were.

His eyes flickered back up to his own, shocked to see purple streaks streaming from his eyes; were… Were those tears? Tom’s hand tightened on his shoulder, free arm looping itself around his shoulders; his world went numb, not hearing what his friend had to say. All he could see was his face, his eyes, his disproportionate body mocking and taunting him with memories of what he used to look like, what he used to be able to do. He remembered… He remembered everything now. The statue. The death of his Lady. The piles of mountainous ashes. The absolute, unbridled pain and terror that had coursed through him, throughout the process. Little Ianita telling him to go in the first place.

He retreated into his mind, body trembling and tears leaking from his eyes as he conjured up images of the would be and could be of his future crumbling away into a bleak dissatisfaction and pain of longing. He could see people he had known since arriving hating him for how he looked, his friends no longer wanting him around due to the fear and panic he’d cause just by showing his face, and his little Ianita screaming and running in terror from the man she’d loved as a father and caregiver because of how he’d changed. He could see Ianite returning and being absolutely disgusted by him, could see Capsize--his long-dead, long-loved Capsize--staring at him with absolute horror and a fear that hadn’t even been on her face when she’d died. He watched as Dianite, followed by Mianite, deciding he wanted nothing to do with him; not even the wizards wanted to even be within a 5 block radius, except for experimentation.

He could envision other scenarios, too. Scenarios where he was hunted for scientific experimentation, where he was held hostage and treated like an animal. Scenarios where nobody spoke to him ever again and he died alone, out of old age or starvation and other reasons. Scenarios where he was kidnapped and tortured, where the people who were trying to “help” him ended up killing him so that nobody else would get to see his face ever again.

Tears blurred his vision, making it difficult to focus on reality. Numbly, as if he were watching it happen to some puppet controlling his body, he watched as Tom darted in front of him and wiped his tears away with an incredibly gentle hand. He watched as his friend scooped him into a tight hug, watched until his body instinctively buried it’s head into the crook of Tom’s neck and made it so he couldn’t see anymore. He felt the warmth of Tom’s arms and body against the cold clamminess of his own, felt a small jolt of surprise as he was lifted up and carried back to the bed. He felt Tom make sure he was comfortable on the bed and under the covers, before feeling the mattress dip as his friend climbed in next to him. He heard faintly, as if he were at the end of a long and echo-y tunnel, Tom’s murmured words of comfort along with his own choked-out stream of gibberish nonsense.

Slowly, he forced his agonizing and downright terrifying thoughts from his mind, grounded by the fact that Tom was there with him. Tom hadn’t left him in the End, even though he knew it was more than likely that Dianite had gotten the other to get him home. Tom hadn’t left him at home alone, nor had he left him to die of starvation from having barely enough energy to stand. He wasn’t sure if Tom was there merely because Dianite had asked him to stay or if he actually cared, but the sheer fact that someone wasn’t afraid of him, wasn’t afraid to touch him, helped ease his fears.

It took him much longer to regain awareness to his surroundings. His tears had stopped merely by no longer having any water left in him to cry, and his gibberish had long since faded away in favor of nursing his sore throat. Tom’s soothing voice still murmured softly, comforting things that would have sounded cheesy were he not so emotionally drained. He weakly nuzzled his face further into the other’s shoulder, as if that would keep reality away and he could pretend like everything was okay.

“Jordan, it’s going to be okay…” Tom murmured softly, rubbing gentle circles to the small of his back. The other sounded relieved, though it was to be expected since all he’d done since looking into the mirror was cry. “Sonj, Tucker, Wag, and me… We’ll be with you ‘til the end.”

“... How do you know?” He murmured, voice scratchy and hoarse. He regretted speaking; his throat burned, ached from the strain he’d placed on his vocal chords.

“Jordan, we’ve known them for years. What makes you think that they’ll leave now, when you need them the most?” He opened his mouth to reply, but shut it upon realizing that he had nothing to counter with. He began trembling again, arms tightening around Tom and face pressing into the man’s shoulder.

Tom, seemingly instinctively, held him closer. One of the man’s arms shifted, so that fingers could calmingly weave their way through his hair.

“They won’t leave you, Jordan. They deal with my face every day, and all of my shenanigans. If they can handle that, then they can certainly handle a sudden change with the way you look.” His lips twitched upwards into a small and fragile smile, gently squeezing Tom a bit closer. His thoughts drifted towards their pranks and games, recalling an instance with the wizards and an anvil gun that had ended with Sonja's home being coated with anvils.

“Tom… Do you remember that time, back when we were in the other dimension, when the wizards built a massive saltshaker over your house?” Tom’s laugh reverberated in the man’s chest, a deep chuckle that drowned out his thoughts and soothed his drained mind.

“Yeah, I do… You even got quartz blocks to be the salt pieces.” He could feel Tom’s impish smile, could sense that it was plastered on his friend’s face. “How many diamonds did that even cost you?”

“I don’t even remember… I think it was 50, or something.”

“... Do you want to get the wizards to make it again, but put it over Sonja’s house?”

“That would be so awesome!!! What are they charging for builds, though?” The two talked and schemed, plotting out some pranks on Waglington, Sonja, and Tucker. Tom spoke as if nothing was wrong, nothing had changed, as if everything was okay… It made it easier for Jordan to believe that it would be. He lost track of time, not realizing how long they’d been chatting until the morning sun peered through the window. He felt the new warmth on his skin, relishing it’s sensation and relaxing; his face was still hidden in Tom’s neck, but he knew the other didn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I hope you have enjoyed what I have written thus far, and I hope to keep or increase the quality of my writing as the story continues. Have a wonderful day!


	3. In My Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!!!
> 
> I'm still not sure which ships I'll be including in this, though I can say for certain that Tonja and Motanite will be included in this. Motanite may evolve into an ot3 (though I'll see, depending on how the story flows), but any other ships are pretty much free game. I'm not sure if I'll add syndisparklez, and other ships are perfectly fine with me too!!!
> 
> Also, I've been naming all the chapters off of song titles; would anyone like a list of the songs along with their original creators and/or the song in the top?

The elevator's soft whoosh alerted him to someone else's presence in the room; whom, he didn't want to know. The calm atmosphere the two had cocooned themselves in was lost, scattered in the wind and blown away like dandelion seeds. Tom freed an arm and gently pulled the blanket up over his head, preventing the intruder from seeing him; the other arm tightened reassuringly around him, as if to say that everything would be okay. He made himself smaller, easier to hide: he wasn't ready to face the consequences of his change. Not yet.

"Tom, Jordan... Your friends are here." He relaxed only marginally, recognizing the voice. Still, the fact that Tucker and Waglington hadn't just rushed in unannounced surprised him; had they seen him already? Had Dianite told them not to disturb him? Did they know?

"They've been pestering me all night to let them up here. Martha even took their angel rings so that they couldn't fly up to the top and use the elevator to get down here... I had to ward the walls, the floor, and the ceiling." Mot chuckled, seeming not to notice his obvious distress. "They haven't got a clue what happened to you, besides Dia freaking out and Martha having to take Ianita away."

"What are they waiting for?" Tom asked, sounding confused--the man knew their friends just as well as Jordan did.

"Dia won't let them in. Says he won't until Sparklypants here says he's ready. Speaking of, is he awa--"

Mot was interrupted by the whoosh of the elevator, immediately followed by a screech from a voice that froze his heart with fear. Faintly, he heard the sound of a dirt block being placed; he hides himself further under the covers, meshing himself to Tom's side.

"Where. Is. Jordan." Sonja's voice rang with a venomous poison, fiery fury dripping from the words like sickly-sweet honey.

"Other-Alyssa, could you please calm down for just a moment?" Tom winced; he wasn't sure what had just happened. Was Mot really naive enough to believe that Sonja wouldn't go off on him?

"Calm down?" The poison was replaced with a deadly calm, as if Sonja were within the eye of a hurricane.

"You want me to _calm down_?" Her voice screamed an insane, inane, maddened anger so fierce that she could barely keep it under control; the storm was coming, was fully unleashed.

"Sonja, please--"

"My friend is hurt and possibly nearly _dead_ , and you're telling me to fucking calm down?" She cut Mot off, voice betraying the fiery and uncontrollable rage that she was keeping just below the surface. Jordan shifted the sheets, peeking out from the safety of Tom's chest to look at her.

Sonja's tail tip twitched violently, fur fluffed up into a frantic orange flag. Her ears were flattened to the top of her head as if a malevolent wind had blown them down, and her eyes carried a heavy burden. There were massive circles under her eyes, darkened bags that were so intense that they seemed fake. Her hair, usually brushed and straight, was a frazzled mess; her clothes were covered in dirt and grime, and her cheek had a smudge of dark earth on it. Absently, he wondered what the others looked like; were they all equally dirty and ragged, or was Sonja the only person who tried to get to him?

Her emerald eyes were narrowed in furious slits, a glare that could kill focused on Mot.

Jordan blinked, then blinked again. The vibrant golds and yellows that cascaded around Sonja seemed to be a miniature sun, colors bright and loving. Her aura was that of a sunset reflected on the ocean, a sunrise reflected on the dawn clouds of a spring morning. Shades of purple merged and mingled like wisps of cotton candy clouds, swirling around and creating pink hues. Her tail swirled the aura into patterns that rippled throughout, leaving trails of a deep yellow and piercing whites in a figure eight. Her eyes had an aura of their own, a faint cloud of grey that swirled around her ears and into the golds surrounding her; whatever it was, it didn't seem to be bothering her.

His gaze shifted from Sonja to the man cowering before her. If Sonja's aura was the sun, then Mot's aura was the moon; Greens that oozed from the right-hand side of the man's face swirled with naturally vibrant reds and oranges, clashing and colliding with each other in a maelstrom of perfect contrast. He, too, had a faint tinge of purple surrounding his aura, though his was weaker than moth Tom and Sonja's. The greens contained within the aura felt out-of-place, as if forcibly injected into the other like a colored droplet falling into a glass of clear water.

Unlike the other auras Jordan had seen, Mot's aura covered him like a cloak flowing in a nonexistent breeze. Small galaxy-sprinkled gaps littered the aura, filling it with glimpses of the stars and the universe just below the surface.

"--Sonja, you're going to scare him." He twitched, startled out of his mindless observation by the familiar rumbly voice; he hadn't realized that the others had continued their conversation.

"... Jordan's here?" Sonja's eyes flitted around the room, searching for him while swirling through a myriad of emotions: confusion, hurt, anger, back to confusion, and others that were too quick to place. Her eyes landed on the bed, searching Tom's face before drifting to the lump that was his own partially hidden one.

Her eyes froze on his.

Her hands flew up to her mouth, eyes blown wide and mouth agape in an expression of shock. He blinked twice; he was hidden, wasn't he? She couldn't see a single inch of him, except for...

His eyes.

The skin around his eyes.

The inky blackness surrounding one, and the purple hue on his "normal" skin.

She could see _him_.

He froze, hands clenching Tom's shirt in tight fists. His breathing stopped, heart skipping a beat.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, a staring contest erupting between himself and his friend. Thoughts bounced around in his head and left as soon as they came, a ballpit of contending condescending pandemonium that refused to calm down.

His vision narrowed on her own, the surrounding world blanking out besides himself and Sonja. He tensed up, hands clenching tighter to a white-knuckle grip on Tom's shirt. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to destroy, to obliterate, to kill; the only thing that stopped him was the sheer fact that she was his friend. He knew she could revive, but that wouldn't mean that killing her was right.

Now he knew why Enderman hated having their eyes stared into.

He could see into her, through her, and beyond. He looked through what could be seen to what could only be described as judgement; he could see a scale set, but not one which he had ever seen before. It had hundreds of thousands of weight pans and sample pans, each with masses that could only be described as memories upon either side. The scale was tilted towards a colossal purpley-grey object, one that throbbed and gave off feelings of insanity and unease; somehow, he knew it was the result of her thaumcraft research. There were other shapes, ones that both counterbalanced and weighed with the thaumcraft: a whitish orb levitated on one of the pans, auras of positivity and kindness radiating off of it, aided the thaumcraftian research; a small dark-colored orb weighed against them both.

The spell shattered before he could figure out what the black orb was, snapping into pieces as Sonja took a step towards him. Her hands slid from her mouth, reaching towards him; Tom stiffened up, arms tightening around him; Mot seemed unable to figure out what had caused Sonja's sudden emotional change before spotting the eye; he hid himself further in the sheets.

"Jordan--"

"Sonja," Tom growled out, interrupting her. "He's not ready to go down there."

"But-"

"Alyssa, he's right." Mot, too, spoke up. "I don't expect you to understand, but I think it would be best to wait until he says he's ready."

Silence filled the room, condensing and pressing into a corrosive atmosphere of thought. He could imagine Sonja's mouth opening and closing while she figured out what to say, as well as the glare that Tom was focusing on her. Still, he felt like he had to make a decision on what he ought to do.

He wasn't ready. He didn't want to show his ugly mug around yet, didn't want to deal with the consequences of what had happened to him until he was ready.

Then again, he doubted he would ever be ready.

He made his decision.  


End file.
